“Have you seen your face lately?” The man moved in closer still, scrutinizing her cheeks. “Looks like someone slapped you pretty hard.”
Chloe felt the blood drain from her face. Someone had slapped her? Was it Anna or was it Dayne? Maybe it was Kelly Parker. She swallowed hard. “Must be the heat, Officer.”
After a few seconds the officer nodded. He didn’t look quite convinced, but he put the pad of paper away. “All right.” He looked down the street as if he expected to see her sister returning to the Civic. He studied Chloe one last time. “If everything’s okay, I won’t make a report. Let us know if you need assistance. And if you’re too hot, I’d keep the windows down from now on. It’s in the nineties today.”
“Right. Very good, Officer.” She nodded at him. “Thank you, sir.” She watched him go, felt her body react with every step he took away from her, the beat of her heart speeding up, pounding loud the way it had before.
She had to get out of here, had to find Dayne before he did something stupid. The press would catch wind of it, and she’d never hear the end of it from Anna.
Someone was laughing at her again, and she turned toward the passenger seat. Anna was back. “See, you’re nothing but a crazy liar. Dayne’s gone off with Kelly Parker. You’ve never even met the man.”
“Stop it!” Chloe yelled, then reached out to slap her sister one last time. But her hand caught only air and the dashboard. She rubbed her stinging fingertips on her jeans and lifted her eyes to Anna again. “Now look what you’ve made me do, you—”
Her sister was gone.
The entire car shook with the sound of her heartbeat, and Chloe held her breath to make it go away. She was alone and she needed to leave, needed to find Dayne now. She stepped on the gas again, but the car stayed where it was, unmoving. It was only then that she caught a glimpse of herself in the rearview mirror.
The police officer was right. Across her cheeks were bright red marks in a very distinct pattern. Sometime in the past half hour someone had slapped her. She looked down and realized why she wasn’t going anywhere.
The car was still in park.
She slipped it into gear, checked her mirror again, and pulled out into traffic. Dayne’s house, that’s where she needed to be. Maybe he could tell her what happened to her face and who would have had the nerve to slap her not once across the face.
But twice.
The dinner was Jenny Flanigan’s idea.
She and her husband, Jim, were in charge of the sets for CKT’s upcoming Tom Sawyer production, and until a day earlier they were the only people on the committee. But yesterday she took a call from her good friend Kari Taylor, who said that her artist sister, Ashley, wanted to help paint sets.
Jenny was thrilled at the news. She contacted Ashley and the two hit it off.
“My husband wants to help also.” Ashley’s tone held a trace of humor. “He told me to tell you he could paint brown walls.” She lowered her voice, as if the next part were top secret. “Landon’s a firefighter. He’s used to tearing down plywood, not painting it.”
“I understand.” Jenny laughed. “My husband’s a football coach. Same thing, but that’s all right. We’ll show them what to do.” She thought a minute. “Hey, why don’t you and Landon come for a barbecue tomorrow night? We can talk about sets and what’s involved, get to know each other a little.”
Ashley talked the idea over with her husband and called back later that afternoon accepting the offer. Now she and Landon and their son, Cole, would be here in fifteen minutes.
Some country song played from the computer in the study as Jenny seasoned a tray of raw hamburger patties. Next she fanned the sliced cheese on a plate, easy to grab, just the way Jim liked it. The salad was chopped and covered, the watermelon sliced and in the refrigerator.
She looked out the window as she washed her hands. All six kids were outside splashing and laughing and playing a game of tag in the pool. It was the perfect day for a barbecue, eighty-five and nothing but sunshine.
Jenny took a few steps toward the entryway and the stairs that led to the bedrooms. “Jim, time to start the fire.”
“Be right down.” His voice filled the house with a rich warmth.
Jenny smiled as she headed back to the kitchen. The barbecue would be a welcome distraction from the roller coaster of emotions that had hit the Flanigan household since auditions for the play. Monday night had been pure jubilation, with both Connor and Bailey getting callbacks for the second day of auditions. But after Tuesday’s limited tryout, the cast list was posted that night on CKT’s Web site, and the results sent emotions spiraling in opposite directions.
Connor was happy. He had earned the part of Joe Harper, Tom Sawyer’s sidekick. It was a major role with multiple speaking lines and solo parts in three songs. But Bailey’s part was something much smaller. She was a townsperson, a nondescript ensemble member who would help make up the background during full-cast scenes, town picnics, and a few song-and-dance numbers.
Tim Reed was Tom Sawyer, Sarah Jo Stryker was Becky Thatcher, and Ashley Zarelli won the part of Aunt Polly.
Jenny took the ketchup and mustard from the fridge and placed them on a blue-and-white plastic tray. It had hurt so much to watch Bailey check the cast list that day. She’d sat in the computer chair, Connor looking over her shoulder, as she navigated the mouse to the right page.
“Well, find it!” Connor had hopped in place, his eyes wide. “Hurry, Bailey, it’s gotta be there.”
“I’m trying.” Her eyes had darted down the list not once but twice. Then, without bursting into tears or even complaining, she slowly pushed the chair back, stood, and hugged Connor. “Congratulations, buddy. You deserve it.”
Then she trudged up the stairs, one slow step at a time.
Jenny let her go and spent the next five minutes calling Jim and the other Flanigan kids into the room to celebrate Connor’s part. Finally Connor grabbed the phone and raised one eyebrow. “I have to call Tim.”
Jenny remembered everything about what happened next. She had dismissed the four younger boys back to the kickball game they’d been playing outside. Then she headed up the stairs after Bailey. With quiet steps she made her way down the hall to Bailey’s room, praying for the right words.
She knocked a couple of times on her daughter’s door. “Bailey?”
“Yes?” Her voice had been thick, muffled. “Come in.”
Jenny went inside and found her place on the edge of Bailey’s bed, the place where they often held late-night talks, sometimes into the early morning hours. Bailey stared straight ahead, silent tears sliding down her cheeks onto her pillow.
“I’m sorry, honey.” Jenny had brushed a lock of hair off her daughter’s forehead.
“What I can’t figure out is why they called me back.” She propped herself up, searching Jenny’s eyes. “I danced better than anyone there, Mom. I promise.” She rolled her eyes. “And that Mrs. Stryker, she sent her daughter in this . . . this yellow dress. Almost like she’d made it just for the Tom Sawyer play.” She uttered a single laugh, but it held not a bit of humor. “I thought Katy didn’t like pushy people.”
Jenny winced. “Sweetheart, it’s not Sarah Jo’s fault if her mother’s pushy. You wouldn’t expect Katy to take that out on a child.”
“No, but . . .” Tears filled Bailey’s eyes again. “I sang just as well as Sarah Jo.” She sat up and crossed her legs, her eyes on Jenny. “And I know I can dance better.” She let her head fall toward her knees. “I wanted it so bad, Mom.”
“I know.” Jenny had taken care with her next words. “Remember your Bible verse? Jeremiah 29:11?”
Bailey lifted her head a bit and sniffed. “Of course.”
“You believe it, right?” Jenny had brushed her hand over her daughter’s forehead once more. “The part about God knowing the plans He has for you?”
“I guess.” Bailey dragged her hands beneath her eyes. “It’s hard sometimes.” She knit her brows a
nd looked hard at Jenny. “How come His plans for me didn’t include a part opposite Tim Reed?” She frowned. “When’ll I have that chance again?”
Jenny continued to prepare for their guests. She walked to the garage and the outside refrigerator where she kept the hamburger buns. She grabbed three bags, then returned to the kitchen.
It was no surprise that Bailey’s frustration ultimately came down to Tim Reed. In the drama that was Bailey’s life, half her time was spent with her friends in her class at Clear Creek High School and the other half was spent with the mostly homeschooled kids involved with CKT.
Bailey was on the cheerleading squad at Clear Creek, a commitment that had kept her out of the first two CKT shows this past school year. Tom Sawyer was the only production she could be a part of, and even then her participation meant giving up summer cheer camp.
Jenny opened the buns and set them out on another tray. Good thing that day was behind them. Bailey was doing better now, talking to her CKT friends and getting excited about being in the show—however small her part. Meanwhile her school friends were frustrated that she was in the play at all. Heather and Sami and Spencer had all weighed in with their opinion on CKT.
“It’s for artsy kids,” Heather had told her. “You’re not like that, Bailey. Spend your time with us.”
Then there was Tanner Williams, quarterback of the freshman football team and Bailey’s longtime friend. Most of the time he was confident about his place in Bailey’s life, but when she took part in a show, as she’d done twice her eighth-grade year, he saw her much less often. When he did come around, he would flip through the most recent CKT program and ask questions about Tim Reed.
Jenny chuckled to herself.
Four years ago when Jim and Jenny adopted three boys from Haiti, Jenny sometimes wondered if they were crazy to take on such a feat. But more than once her mother would stop in to visit and pull her aside. “Don’t worry about all those little boys. Bailey’s almost a teenager.” She’d raise an eyebrow toward whatever part of the house Bailey happened to be in. “You’ll spend more energy on that girl than you do on all the boys combined.”
Her mother had been right.
It wasn’t that Bailey was any trouble—other than her struggles with keeping her room clean and getting her homework done on time. She was a delight, a morally driven girl with a contagious laugh and more friends than she could count. The time-consuming aspect came with the hours of analyzing and agonizing over whatever development the day brought.
There was a knock at the front door. Jenny dusted the crumbs off her hands and headed for the door. A glance through the living room window told her it was Cody Coleman, the sixteen-year-old boy from down the street.
She swung the door open and smiled. “Hello, Cody. Come on in.”
“Thanks.” Cody gave her a quick hug and motioned toward the kitchen. “Can I grab a sandwich?”
“Cody, you’re always hungry.” Jenny laughed and led the way to the refrigerator. “We’ll be eating in less than an hour.”
He grinned at her as he reached for a package of lunch meat and a loaf of bread. “Good. That’s just about when I’ll be ready for more.”
At that moment, Jim bounded into the kitchen, raised his fists in the air, and sucked in a deep breath. “I love summer.” He winked at Cody and continued across the kitchen to Jenny. He kissed her lightly on her lips. “Have I ever told you that?”
“Every June.” She smiled and gave him a playful shove, creating enough space between them so she could hand him the tray of raw meat. “Cody’s having his predinner meal.”
“Good man!” Jim pointed a finger at him and adjusted his tone to the one he used for coaching. “Six meals a day if you wanna pack on the muscle this summer.”
Cody raised his sandwich in the air, his mouth too full to answer. He took the plate of cheese and followed Jim out back toward the barbecue.
Jenny watched for a moment, and her heart soared at the sight of her husband working alongside Cody Coleman. All last year— while Cody ran with the wrong crowd and nearly got kicked out of school for bringing liquor on campus—she and Jim doubted whether they’d ever see him again.
About a month ago, Jim had taken him to lunch, and Cody had been dropping in for dinner or a conversation or a swim in the pool ever since. He’d also started attending church with them and asking questions about the Bible. Once in a while he even hinted at living with them, the way he’d lived on their sofa for three weeks at the end of his freshman year.
Jenny didn’t mind. Both she and Jim were certainly open to the possibility if Cody’s mother agreed. She was single and worked two jobs—one of them at a strip club. Over the years she’d been verbally abusive to Cody, and when he was still in middle school she introduced him to the world of drinking.
“I can make the meanest gin and tonic in all of Bloomington,” Cody had told them a couple years back, the first time he came down the street and introduced himself.
Jenny and Jim had entertained the thought of contacting social services, but they were torn. As much as the woman wasn’t a good mother, she was all Cody had. Instead they watched the situation closely and decided against seeking intervention.
There was only one problem with Cody’s latest involvement in their lives.
Bailey had noticed him.
Jenny positioned herself near the sink so she could watch her daughter’s reaction to Cody’s arrival. Sure enough, Bailey climbed out of the pool, smoothed her hair back, and grabbed a towel. She knew the game of interacting with boys better than to appear too interested. She spent another few minutes talking with her brothers; then she pulled away and made her way across the deck to Jim.
The two smiled and chatted about something, but almost as quickly Bailey shifted the conversation to Cody. The pass-through window was open, and Jenny could hear voices, but she couldn’t make out the exact conversation. Whatever story Bailey was telling, she bent over and made a silly face; then she gave Cody a light touch on his elbow and threw her head back, laughing hard. Cody laughed too and said something in return. But after that he turned his attention back to Jim. If body language was any indication, Cody wasn’t interested in Bailey. Not at this point.
Jenny prayed often that things would stay that way.
Cody was a year older than Bailey and very good-looking. Together he and Bailey made a striking pair. But Cody was an alcoholic, one who could go months drinking every day to the point of blacking out. The idea of his being interested in Bailey sent terrible shivers down Jenny’s spine.
Another knock came from the front of the house.
“Coming!” Jenny took quick, light steps into the foyer and opened the front door. Standing on the porch was a beautiful young woman in her late twenties and next to her a strapping dark-haired man. On his other side was a towheaded little boy. “Hi!” Jenny held the door open and stepped back. “You must be the Blakes. Come on in!”
The woman held her hand out. “I’m Ashley.” She put her hand on the man’s shoulder. “This is my husband, Landon—” her gaze shifted to the child—“and our son, Cole.”
Jenny stooped down. “I’m Mrs. Flanigan. Nice to meet you, Cole.”
He shook her hand and looked her straight in the eyes. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Flanigan.”
They moved through the foyer into the kitchen, and Ashley said, “Jenny, your house is beautiful.”
“Thanks.” Jenny never got over feeling a little embarrassed about the size of their house. It was seven thousand square feet with six bedrooms and an apartment over the garage. She shrugged and gave Ashley a lopsided grin. “God provided it. Now it’s our job to use it for Him.”
“Well, it’s very lovely.” Ashley folded her hands. Her eyes sparkled as she took in the stone tile and cherrywood detail around the perimeter of the kitchen. “Maybe later you could give me a tour?”
“Definitely.” Jenny looked at the three of them. “Can I get you some water, something to drink?”
>
Cole hopped in place a few times. “Yes, please. Ice water, please.”
Ashley rolled her eyes. “Ice water’s his new thing.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Makes him feel like a big boy.”
“Well, then, ice water it is.” Jenny found a ceramic pitcher in a lower cupboard and began filling it. She looked over her shoulder at Ashley and Landon. “One of Jim’s players is with us tonight too. His name’s Cody. He’s sort of like a sixth son, I guess.”
“And Katy Hart, right? She lives here too?” Ashley accepted a glass of water and leaned back against the kitchen island.
“Yes, she has the apartment.” The mention of Katy’s name caused a strange feeling in Jenny. Ever since auditions, Katy had been gone more often. And when she was around, she was less talkative than usual. Or maybe it was only Jenny’s imagination. The truth was, she’d been upset with Katy after the cast list was posted. Bailey had already given a lot to CKT. The part of Becky Thatcher would’ve been perfect for her.
But those thoughts had cleared by the following morning. Casting a show couldn’t be an easy task, and Katy put great thought into her decisions. Besides, she’d told Katy not to play favorites. She couldn’t stay frustrated at Katy over the way Bailey had been cast. It was like she had told Bailey in her room that night. If God had wanted her to have the part of Becky Thatcher, she would’ve gotten it.
The small talk in the kitchen continued. Ashley was sweet and excited about working on the sets committee. After just five minutes with the couple, one thing was very clear: Ashley and Landon were crazy about each other.
After Cole had his water, he joined the other kids out back where they were drying off near the pool. Ashley mentioned that Cole was a very strong swimmer, but she still wanted to stay outside as long as he was near the pool.
That’s when Jenny remembered Kari’s and Ashley’s sister Brooke and how her youngest daughter had nearly died in a drowning incident a few years back. “Tell you what.” Jenny led Ashley and Landon out to the covered patio. She walked to one of the side walls of their covered patio and turned a key. An electric cover began making its way across the pool. “With all the kids out, it’s better to keep the water covered.”
Fame Page 7